


This One Time, At Band Camp...

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Cumdumpster, I might write something like this with elyse soon~, M/M, OT7, Oh also, written right after the lifestream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it’s James, the others too leery about the idea to really take advantage, but James—they could always count on him to crouch next to the line in the sand and casually draw a dick through it.</p><p>“Hey,” he says brusquely, grabbing him by the elbow. “C'mere for a sec, Adam.”</p><p>Adam’s still too out of it from the hour of failed demo discs to really know what’s happening until James straddles him on the couch. Adam’s arms are pinned to his sides by James’ knees, his face is level with James’ crotch, and he has about five seconds to realize what’s about to happen before James gets his belt off and his cock in Adam’s mouth.</p><p>James goes fast, hard, and when he pulls back to stripe Adam’s face with cum his face is already dripping with spit and he’s <i>rock fucking hard</i> from the unexpected facefucking.</p><p>That’s, of course, when James pulls away, ruffles Adam’s hair, and leaves him panting on the couch with a filthy face and an untouched erection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This One Time, At Band Camp...

Adam… didn’t think he’d be into it. He really didn’t. Being used, being all but a sex toy for the others… Why would he want that? Why would he want them to use his body to get themselves off with no concern for his pleasure?

Adam is proven wrong again, and again, and again.

The first time it’s James, the others too leery about the idea to really take advantage, but James—they could always count on him to crouch next to the line in the sand and casually draw a dick through it.

“Hey,” he says brusquely, grabbing by the elbow. “C'mere for a sec, Adam.”

Adam’s still too out of it from the hour of failed demo discs to really know what’s happening until James straddles him on the couch. Adam’s arms are pinned to his sides by James’ knees, his face is level with James’ crotch, and he has about five seconds to realize what’s about to happen before James gets his belt off and his cock in Adam’s mouth.

James goes fast, hard, and when he pulls back to stripe Adam’s face with cum his face is already dripping with spit and he’s _rock fucking hard_ from the unexpected facefucking.

That’s, of course, when James pulls away, ruffles Adam’s hair, and leaves him panting on the couch with a filthy face and an untouched erection.

It takes Adam a good few minutes to collect himself enough to go back to his desk, to wipe his face and go back to making thumbnails. His concentration is shot, though, and he’s still hard, and he almost sobs in relief when Joel touches his shoulder half an hour later.

“You still hard, babe?” he asks. Adam knocks his headphones off with the force of his nod. Joel laughs at him but still says good and Adam’s belly twists as Joel pulls his chair away from the table.

“Joel,” Adam starts, but Joel ignores him in favor of pulling something from his pocket, something slim and black and circular and—oh, oh _no—_

“Joel,” Adam says again. “Please don’t, I need—”

“You _need_ to be quiet,” Joel interrupts easily. “Come on, we all know you’re a bitch, but try and contain yourself.” The entire time he’s speaking Joel’s pulling Adam’s cock out, fitting the silicone rings around the base of his cock, his balls, and Adam has to press a hand over his mouth to keep from making any noise. He’s rewarded—punished? He doesn’t know anymore—with a deft stroke up his cock and squeezes his eyes shut as Joel starts stripping off.

“You think the chair can take it?” Adam hears Lawrence say. Joel’s response is a laugh and dragging Adam out of his seat and onto the floor.

“Stay,” Joel says. Adam risks opening his eyes and is immediately sorry he did, as Joel is kneeling above him with an expression of intense concentration as he works himself open.

“O-oh,” Adam says helplessly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Joel tells him, and then he’s sinking down and Adam’s hands go from covering his mouth to clawing at the carpet as Joel takes his pleasure from Adam. It’s every bit as leisurely as fucking Joel ever is, except this time his hands are on Adam’s chest keeping him still and Joel is riding Adam like he’s nothing more than a dildo.

Static buzzes in Adam’s brain as he breathes deeply, wills himself to stop shaking, clenches his kegels and tries with everything he has to keep still for Joel. It’s slow torture but it's—the _noises_ Joel is making—Lawrence’s low sounds of appreciation as he watches—

“God, you fucking love this, don’t you?” Joel rasps, voice strained as he strokes himself with the hand not braced on Adam’s chest. Adam is wise enough not to answer, and Joel laughs lowly as his head tilts back.

Every inch of Adam feels like it’s on fire when Joel clenches hard around him and comes all over Adam’s shirt. He can’t do anything but lay there as Joel centers himself, stretches languorously. Adam’s still hard and still wanting and still—still just a tool here, still just a toy. He can feel the calm settling over his brain like a solid weight as Joel stands and collects his clothes.

“Don’t you clean your toys?” Adam hears distantly, and then hands are urging him up, to his feet.

“Come on,” Matt laughs, staggering under Adam’s weight where Adam’s arm is slung around his shoulder. “Walk on your own, Adam.”

Adam does as he’s told and somehow makes it from the office to the bathroom, shirt discarded somewhere he doesn’t have the energy to remember, Matt’s hands gentle where he eases Adam’s cock and balls free. Adam—he’s too determined to be good to say anything, but his knees tremble at the sudden rush and he ends up braced against the sink with Matt’s arm around his waist as he takes deep breaths and tries to stay on his feet.

“You got it,” Matt tells him, voice confident. “Come on, that’s it.”

Adam isn’t as certain but he does his best, bends to rest most of his weight on his forearms as he presses his face against the cool porcelain. It’s grounding, it’s centering, it’s enough to clear some of the haze from Adam’s head—

Then, of course, Matt’s fingers brush against his asshole, and Adam whimpers despite all his efforts to stay quiet.

“Adam,” Matt says, still supporting him with one arm. “What’s your safeword?”

It takes a moment to sort through the detritus to realize he’s being asked to speak, but Adam dredges up the memory and mumbles out a response.

“Monopoly.”

“Good,” Matt says, fingers still circling deftly. “Do you need to use it?”

Adam shifts his weight and feels Matt’s arm around him, feels the ground firm beneath his feet.

“No,” he decides.

“Okay,” Matt agrees. “Then I’m going to fuck you, and when I’m done, you can come. How’s that sound?”

Adam can only keen in response, because Matt’s fingers have breached him and he’s fucking Adam with two fingers and Adam doesn’t know who has the lube at the office but he’s _damn_ glad they do because Matt isn’t fucking around, Matt opens him almost too quickly before pressing inside. It’s so much, it’s _too_ much, Adam can feel his mind coming apart as Matt fucks him over the sink—

And then Matt is touching him and Adam doesn’t know if Matt has come yet but—

“I’m sorry—” Adam gasps, and—

When Adam’s head clears he’s horizontal, head pillowed in someone’s lap and a coat draped over him. Opening his eyes reveals that he’s back in the office, back on the sofa, and Bruce is frowning at the tablet he’s holding in one hand with the other scratching absently at Adam’s chest.

Adam stares at the lines in Bruce’s face for a long moment before speaking.

“I, ah, blacked out,” he confesses, voice small and wrecked. “What happened?”

Bruce starts and nearly drops the tablet on Adam’s face.

“Fuck, Kovic,” he mutters. “Are you finally back?”

“Uh, yeah,” Adam rasps. “Sorry I—”

“Is he still apologizing?” Lawrence calls, groaning loudly. “Adam we know, you’re so sorry, Shut the fuck up. You were great.”

“And this is why I’m the one on the couch,” Bruce mutters, and strokes once down Adam’s chest. “You were out of it for a while, but it was, was endearing.” It sounds like it causes him physical pain to admit, but then, that’s Bruce and aftercare—determined to help but lacking the vocabulary to do so.

“Okay,” Adam says, because he’s too tired to apologize for the trouble. “Tell me, am I covered in cum?”

“No,” Sean says, sounding put-out. “Peake cleaned you up.”

“Okay,” Adam says again. He closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, Joel is buckling him into his passenger seat while muttering about ungrateful lugs and Adam kisses him to hear him laugh before curling up against the door again, content.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at egocentrifuge.tumblr.com


End file.
